


What Matters

by stephanieh



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Brotherly Love, Character Study, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Erebor, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Quest, Sibling Bonding, general mischief
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:05:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3095894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stephanieh/pseuds/stephanieh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Balin gives his younger brother a lesson in perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Matters

Dwalin was sitting at his desk studying when his elder brother arrived home from work. Apparently studying that is- upon closer inspection, Balin discovered his head was laid on the open page of one of his books as he snored gently.

Balin gave an amused huff before he spoke, loudly. "Have you been at it all day, then?"

Dwalin started awake, tipping over his ink pot as he ripped his cheek from the page, where it had become stuck with drool. Groaning, he ran his hands over his face heavily.

"I'm sorry to say you will not learn the laws of diplomacy by smearing them all over your face," Balin chided. "You are not yet old enough for any sort of ink, no matter how noble a cause passing your tests may be. And when you are, I trust you will choose a more sensible position than your cheek."

Dwalin swatted away his elder brothers attempts to rub off the ink stains on his cheek with the sleeve of his guard uniform, electing to scrub them gruffly off with his bare hands instead. "This is impossible," he growled, gesturing with disgust at the books before him.

"What is it that's troubling you," Balin sighed, pulling up a chair beside his brother's, examining the papers.

"It doesn't make any sense," Dwalin elaborated hotly.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific than that, brother."

"None of it."

Balin suppressed a huff of laughter at his brother's frustration. He was taking these tests much too seriously, as he took everything which he encountered in life. Even merrymaking- Dwalin took to drinking with as much intensity as he might take on an opponent on the sparring range. He did not need help understanding the material he was studying so much as he needed to adjust his views of what things were worth taking seriously.

"Alright," Balin replied, a new spirit in his tone as he gave his brother a hearty pat on the back. "Time for a change of scenery."

Balin shoved a coat in Dwalin's arms and led his brother out of their quarters into the vast halls of Erebor. 

The walkways were so intertwined that they had been called a labyrinth by many an outsider, but to a dwarf, navigating the stone was as simple as following a painted line which led you to your destination. Balin could walk these halls with his eyes closed. He smiled fondly at the familiar seams of gold which permeated the walls as he led his sulking brother to the market hall for a treat before they proceeded to their final destination.

Not an hour passed before they were lounging on one of the many observation pallets which lined the floor of the _gandur thatrur_ , savoring the sweets which Balin had won from a vendor in the market at a very fair price. (Considering that he had won his wages valiantly defending the vendor's family from the dangers outside the mountain, the shopkeeper had been willing to sell his wares at a considerable discount). 

As the brothers lay side by side in companionable silence, Balin reflected on the numerous occasions their parents had treated them with a visit to these halls as they had grown up. He had always appreciated the beauty of the place- the cascade of glittering jewels which flowed like water might from a deep chasm in the center of the dome which formed the ceiling of the chamber. Many a pretty stone was harvested from the formation on the opposite side of the cavern walls, but even the most conservative of jewelers could not be considered a dwarf if they were to disturb the natural beauty of the crystals in the cave. So they had been preserved just as they had been found, and had become known as a place for quiet contemplation within the kingdom, as well as a legend outside it's halls.

Balin could recall him complaining about the place being boring when he was younger, but he had always noticed Dwalin appreciating the beauty of it when he thought their parents weren't looking. Even now, his brother feigned disinterest, seemingly absorbed in his sweets while his eyes glinted in the light of the stones overhead. He had learned well that pretty stones could do little for a warrior, but even he could not suppress the love for beautiful things which inhabited every dwarf's soul.

The evening wore on and the chamber emptied out. The green lighting crystals lining the walls dimmed as the sun set outside the mountain, setting the cascades of white glittering even more vibrantly. Dwalin ran out of sweets, and drew something else to occupy his hands out of his pocket.

Lost in thought, Balin didn't notice his brother's occupation until the light reflected of the shard of metal, drawing his eye to the fragment of an axe blade in his brother's hand.

When the news had come to them that both their parents had fallen in an orc raid up north, the brothers had not been surprised. As grieved as they were by their loss, both of them had known well the hazards of serving in the guard. While they could never have prepared themselves for the pain of losing both their parents in such a meaningless skirmish on the road back from the Iron Hills, they had known what they had to do. Fundin and his wife had made sure that no ends had been left untied whenever they went out, and that their sons grew up knowing the risks and why they had to take them. 

They had done well by their children, and Balin had followed in their path, entering training for the guard as soon as he was old enough to do so. Dwalin had not complained over being left to take care of their home when Balin had started work. He understood the necessity of his chores, and why Balin had to go.

Their parents bodies were lost, but one of their traveling companions, remembering the sons of their fallen comrades, had preserved what they could of their weapons. Shards were all that were left of them, so shards they brought back to them.Dwalin had requested possession of the remains, a request which had broken his week long silence after they heard the news of their parent's deaths. It was not tradition, but Balin found he could not refuse his younger brother's only wish in such trying times.

It was that shard which Dwalin twirled between his fingers now, as the two lounged in the waning light, observing the crystals twinkle like stars above them.

"Once I'm a guard, I thought I could reforge them," Dwalin stated so quietly Balin almost didn't hear. It took him a moment to process the meaning of his brother's words.

"Ah," he sighed, realizing Dwalin was referring to their father's beloved battle axes. "Why wait, you have the skill to do so now, if you choose."

"It wouldn't be right," Dwalin replied. "I want to be a guardsman when I wield our father's weapons. Grasper and Keeper deserve no lesser use."

Balin forwent reply, laying a hand on his brother's shoulder and giving his a comforting squeeze. "Father would be proud to hear you say so. Mother often complained he loved those axes more than her."

The two laughed, and the sound echoed in a friendly way against the cavern walls, making the room seem less empty than before.

"If I don't pass this test, I'll never have any right to wield them," Dwalin said gruffly, sour mood returning as he tucked the fragment away in his pocket.

Balin knew he was right. It was required of every guard of the royal family to pass courses on basic diplomacy. But that shouldn't be how it worked. A guard learned on the job how they were required them to act around certain people. Reading a hundred books could not prepare you for the situations that arise in the line of work. What truly matters is loyalty to the cause and faith in your fellow guardsmen to have your back. That was the lesson Dwalin should truly be learning, instead of struggling to memorize these futile laws in vain. His brother had never had a head for such things, but he should not be penalized for learning differently than others. Balin had passed the diplomacy courses with high praise, after all, and Dwalin was shaping up to be just as capable a guard as he was- maybe even more so if his skill in the sparring range was anything to go by.

A glint of mischief lit the elder brother's eyes, and he smiled. "I've got just the thing for you, _nadad._ " 

Dwalin turned to look at his brother curiously from underneath his dark brow, no doubt having learned to be wary of that fey tone. 

And he was right to be worried.

The next day Dwalin arrived home just as Balin was putting a pot over the fire for dinner. Neither of them were very given to the art of cooking, but both had been taught at least what to boil over the fire to make a decent, hearty stew.

Balin sat at the hearth side, warily observing his brother's countenance as he made his way into the kitchen, laying his coat over the chair and taking his place at the table, glaring at the wooden slab as if it held the riddles of life and death.

"Well, how did it go," Balin inquired excitedly. "Did you pass?"

Dwalin looked up to meet his brother's eyes, and he said simply, "Yes."

"That's good," Balin asked. "Right?"

Dwalin grunted, returning his gaze to the table.

Balin sighed, rising from the fireside and taking a chair beside his brother. "What is it," he asked, trying to catch Dwalin's eye.

After a moment of silence, Dwalin opened his mouth, only to close it again. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. " _Should_ I have cheated?"

"Cheated," Balin chirped. " _Pish_ \- you didn't cheat. You studied twice as hard as any of your classmates did. All we did was even the playing field a bit!"

Dwalin sighed as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders, pulling up his sleeve to examine the runes which had been printed there the night before by his brother. 

They had used the same method which Dwalin had accidentally gotten ink on his face earlier that night. The ink was thin enough to be virtually unnoticeable unless you were looking for it, and it was written in a neat enough hand to be mistaken for a tattoo at first glance- none of the untidy scrawl a young student could manage, and no one could accuse Dwalin of having outside help, for he had only his brother, an honorable guard of Erebor. All and all, the argument would hardly be worth risking insult over. It was only a test after all.

Balin laid a hand on his brother's shoulder, squeezing firmly until he looked up at him. "You don't need to know all thirty-two laws of diplomacy by heart in order to be a good guardsman."

Dwalin contemplated this, frown turning less menacing and more perplexed as he glared at the table.

"Besides," Balin said in a light tone, going back to his cooking and leaving his brother to debate the issue on his own. "I'll have your back- and I'm sharp enough for the both of us."

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I hear one line from any of the dwarves in AUJ now.
> 
> Anyways, what did you guys think of Balin? I feel like I can never get either of these two right, but I've less practice writing Balin. OOC?


End file.
